


425-Circle-F

by catwithasmile



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Apple Pie, Baking, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Domestic, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catwithasmile/pseuds/catwithasmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Dean finds fallen!cas trying to understand the oven/kitchen appliances because he’s trying to bake a pie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	425-Circle-F

 

It was a lazy afternoon in the bunker and soft light filtered into the kitchen from a wide, one-way window. The sounds of pots and pans banged raucously through the empty rooms.

Sam was out with Kevin getting groceries, and some other novelty items that pertained to the hunter homestead; Dean was in the garage messing with the Impala; and Cas? Cas was the reason for the crashing sounds that echoed about.

It had been a few months since ‘the Fall’ as they called it, when they talked about it at all, and Castiel had sat around during this time practically twiddling his now human thumbs. There were times when he would protest, voicing his concern with not being able to help. In these moments Dean usually just sat him in a chair and told him to wait for them to come back. He’d tell him that he’d be better here ‘holding down the fort’, whatever that meant. So he did, with the patience only an angel could have, always being in the same spot whenever they did return.

Today was different, though. Cas wasn’t sure if it was boredom that drove him or the need to do something for the brothers, but something spurred him into action and he found himself in the kitchen digging through the dusty cookbooks in one of the cabinets. There were a few recipes that captured his attention for more than a couple seconds, angel food cake (he was slightly appalled at first until he realized it was a type of sponge-y cake, something consumable and not filled with angels), homemade hamburgers, devil’s food cake (another that confused him slightly until reading through it and realizing it was cake), but none were what he was looking for.

Then he found something. Something perfect. ‘Apple Pie’ was in the last book he flipped through, towards the back. He read through the page avidly, like a child taking in the pictures of a flip book, and began moving about the kitchen in a hurried manner. He searched through cupboards, the pantry, the fridge, everywhere he could to find the different things he needed, quietly repeating the list to himself, committing it to memory: flour, salt, shortening, water, sugar, more flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, more salt, apples, and butter. It was as if he’d never lost his wings, he flitted so effortlessly around the kitchen it was a wonder how he didn’t bump into everything, especially with his nose so buried in the book.

With all supplies gathered he began reading through the first few steps. “In a medium bowl, mix 2 cups of flour and 1 teaspoon of salt.” The first speed bump was reached and he scanned the page again.

“What dictates a medium bowl?” He looked through the cupboards again and eventually found a smaller sized bowl, one that obviously wouldn’t fit all that was required but he continued on his merry way humming a tune quietly to himself as he used a literal cup to dump flour into the bowl.

“Two cups of flour added. Next, a small pinch of salt.” He pinched a little salt between his thumb and forefinger and sprinkled it gingerly into the bowl. “’Heat oven to 425-circle-f. What does ‘425-circle-f’ mean? I don’t understand.” His eyebrow puckered as he became confused at the context of the page. Frowning he looked around and found the oven. Reading off the different dials he eventually found one with a bunch of numbers ascending numerically around it. Twisting it to one side he looked inside the oven, but he couldn’t see anything happening and continued to turn it back and forth. “Turn on! I command you to power on!”

It was at the this moment when he felt another presence and whipped around. There was Dean standing in the doorway with grease on his arms and a little smeared across his left cheek. His eyebrow was raised as he looked around the kitchen. “Uh, Cas, buddy, do I even wanna know what’s goin’ on in here?” He wiped his hands on a dirty rag absently as he met his friend’s eyes and looked over disheveled appearance. Flour covered his hands and arms, as well as the front of his clothing and his hair.

“I, uh, I was trying to make this machine turn on, but I’m not sure how to turn it to ‘425-circle-f’, though.” He continued to turn the dial back and forth, watching as the red light turned off and on again.

He could feel eyes digging into his back and then there was the sound of throaty laughter. “I don’t understand. Why are you laughing? This is no laughing matter, Dean.” This just sent the hunter into another fit and he doubled over, grabbing the counter with a steadying hand.

“Man, you definitely aren’t equipped to deal with human situations, are you?”

“What are you talking about? I was doing just fine until now.”

“Cas, it’s ‘425-degrees-farenheit’, as in that’s the temperature. You got the machine right, surprisingly, but the phrasing, you need to work on it. What in the hell are you making anyways?” He reached for the book and before Cas could snatch it from the counter it was in Dean’s hands, his eyes on the page and a laugh bubbling at his lips again. “Apple pie? That’s what this is about? You’re mad at the oven because of pie.”

He sighed and sat on one of the bar stools next to Dean. “Yes, this is about pie. It just feels like while you guys are out being saviors, helping the world, I sit here and do nothing. I feel helpless and I wanted to do something other than sitting around.”

“Why don’t you try sleeping? How long has it been since you’ve slept? You look exhausted.”

“I’m not really sure. A few days, perhaps. Sleeping is a weird… feature of human life and any time I sleep I dream of that night.” He went quiet for a few seconds, the light in his eyes darkening. “Besides, this is more important.” His eyes went to the book in Dean’s hands, reaching for it with his eyes and willing it back into his own hands.

Dean handed it back to him with an exasperated sigh and there was a look on his friend’s face that he hadn’t seen in a long time, a smile and look of contentedness. “You, uh, need any help cause quite frankly you’re doing this all wrong and I should know, pie’s kind of my life, man.”

“I’d really like that, Dean.”

The next few hours were spent with Dean teaching Cas how to turn on the oven and use all the utilities the kitchen had to offer, as well as teaching him how to bake the perfect pie. The pie that came out was a little more than scorched on every side, and also beyond being edible for the most part. Dean had laughed as he pulled it out of the oven, wispy, black smoke billowing lazily towards him as he did.

“What did you do, man?” Another laughed escaped him, turning into a choking cough as he breathed in and he waved a pot holder in front of his face, wafting the smoke away from him.

“All I did was set it to 500 degrees Fahrenheit instead of 425.”

“Why the hell did you do that? You friggin’ burnt it.”

“I thought it would bake faster.” The tone of his voice was small, like he was being scolded.

This only made Dean laugh again and he grabbed a plate from the counter, some milk from the fridge and some vanilla ice cream from the freezer. Setting up a plate for himself he dug into a piece and even though the burnt taste of pie was really all he could taste, there was really nothing else he could complain about as the two sat together. “It’s the best pie I’ve ever had, Cas.”

“Really?”

“Really.” 


End file.
